


A Little Dinner Before the Play

by MooseFeels



Series: Seasons May Change [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friendship, Human Castiel, Mentions of Eating Disorder, gardener!Castiel, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has a garden and neighbor and a quiet life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Dinner Before the Play

Castiel bends down and drags his hands through the warm dirt. It scratches against his skin but it’s also soft. Somehow velvety. Very dark and very rich.

Castiel loves the dirt and he loves the earth under his human hands.

His house is small. It has white walls and wide windows that look out into the street like wide eyes. It has a big backyard with jasmine growing along the back fence and soft grass, green under his feet. It has a big raised bed, and in the big raised bed he has a big garden that Castiel loves.

He loves to plant herbs and flowers and vegetables, more or less indiscriminately. He likes the way the bean plants in the summer bring nitrogen back into his dirt. He likes the way marigolds keep flies away from the fragrant basil. He likes the way mint runs low and intense at every available piece of space. He likes the way strawberry plants hold onto water, he likes the way chives grow up wild and huge like hair, he likes the huge rosemary bush at the edge of the bed. He loves summer vegetables and berries, he loves the sturdy herbs that grow on through winter and fall, he loves the kale and greens and asparagus that come up in late spring. He loves his garden and the beauty and activity that it brings his life year round.

It is a clear day in the early autumn. The last of the tomatoes came up a couple of weeks ago and the plants are beginning to wither. The beans are gone and the basil is going. The dew will turn into frost in the coming weeks and then he will pull the dead plants from the garden. Today, though, he will pull up the last of his carrots and pluck away the last of the basil to can as rich pesto that will sustain the summer deep into February.

Castiel pulls his boots onto his feet and tromps out into his garden and works for a few minutes and then he hears footsteps behind him.

Castiel stops and turns around.

Sam is tall and he smiles brilliant and happily. “It’s really grown,” he says.

Sam is Castiel’s neighbor, a nice enough guy with long hair and a happy smile and an extensive collection of guns and knives that he takes on hunting trips. Sam doesn’t seem to be home much, actually, he seems to spend most of his time out in the woods. He’s friendly, though, when he’s here and he always brings Castiel some venison or rabbit or wild turkey or duck.

“Thank you,” Castiel answers. “It’s certainly improved since I’ve been here. Still has a little ways to go.”

That’s true- the dirt in the garden was dead and flat when he got there. Grey and dry and crumbled. Compost and worms and water have changed that and made it the living thing it is now. He loves it like he loves someone else, like he would love a brother or a sister or a spouse. He loves it like another human being.

“I’m going on another hunting trip,” Sam says. “I should be back by the end of next week- duck season is starting soon in my brother’s area.”

Castiel pulls a carrot out of the dirt and brushes the dirt from it. Places it in the basket and says, “I didn’t know you have a brother.”

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “He lives out in North Dakota with a friend of the family and builds cars. He’s a good guy but we...uh, we kind of need our space.” He looks a little pained, his smile a little tight. “One of those things where...where you love your family but you know you’re not always good to each other.”

“I understand,” Castiel says. “My brothers can be overprotective. I love them, and I am always glad to see them, but it’s still important to have my space out here. With you.”

If Sam asked him, Castiel would follow him to bed, but they both know that this isn’t what their relationship is. They’re friends, whatever that entails, and part of that means they share a certain camaraderie. Castiel always has a meal ready for him, Sam can always come a help him get something fixed. It’s not sexual, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other in their way, platonic though that may be.

Sam smiles. “You’re a good friend,” he says.

Castiel doesn’t ask about the nights where Sam asks to sleep in his guest room and he doesn’t ask about the pictures on Sam’s mantle of him with a woman with long blonde hair. He doesn’t ask about the conspicuous lack of alcohol or the way Sam’s fireplace is never used. That’s Sam’s business, and if he ever wants to share, Castiel’s there to listen.

Sam doesn’t ask Castiel about the lack of mirrors in his house or the lack of scales or the way Castiel never wears short sleeves, not even in high summer.

They’ve both got their demons.

“Call me when you get back,” Castiel says. “I worry.”

“I always do,” Sam answers.

He does because the one time he didn’t, Castiel lost sleep for a week, convinced that Sam was dead somewhere in the woods  being eaten by wolves. Castiel worries a lot. It’s why he doesn’t live in the city anymore.

“I’ve made a ricotta,” Castiel says, picking up his basket. “Would you like some? It’s quite good for pasta.”

Sam smiles. “That would be great, yeah.”

They head inside.

 


End file.
